ADRIFT IN A STRANGE CITY
In spite of Dorothy’s courage, and her efforts to keep each of her
troubles apart, that she might meet and cope with them singly, the time
had now come when she found herself sorely puzzled.
How would she be able to reach Rochester—to leave her cousins and proceed
alone in her search for Tavia?
The morning of departure dawned bright and clear, conditions most
necessary for a pleasant automobile trip, and when the Markin family
waved an affectionate adieu, the Fire Bird puffed away from in front of
the hotel, Rose-Mary throwing innumerable kisses to Dorothy. Suddenly, as
they swung into the street, Dorothy turned to Ned and asked:
“Ned, could you let me go part of the way home, by train? I did not want
to mention it at the hotel as Mrs. Markin would be sure to worry, but I
would so like to return by rail. You could just leave me at the depot and
then—you might stop for me at—did you say you were going through
Rochester on your way back?”
Ned and Nat gazed at their cousin in surprise. What could she mean to ask
to leave them and go to North Birchland alone?
“I know you think it strange,” she hastened to add, “but really you know,
I am able to travel alone that short distance. You know I came from
Glenwood alone.”
“Oh, yes, I know,” replied Nat, “but this time mother put you in our
charge and these are big cities around here.”
“But if the auto makes you feel ill,” put in Nat, “of course no one could
object to you going by train.”
“I would so much rather,” declared Dorothy, taking advantage of Nat’s
ready excuse for her. “I have found that there is a train at
eight-thirty. Then, if you pass through Rochester, you could meet me
there. I can go to some young women’s club and wait if I do not meet you
exactly on time at the station.”
This was a brave stroke, and Dorothy felt that she would not be equal to
further argument should the boys offer much more opposition.
“You mean for us to leave you here at the Buffalo depot?” asked Ned in a
dazed sort of way.
“Yes, I have plenty of money with me, and I know perfectly well how to
travel alone.”
“But you may have to change cars, and suppose you were to be left alone
in Rochester in case we had a breakdown and couldn’t pick you up?”
“It wouldn’t be any worse staying in Rochester than it would in some
place near where you happened to have the accident. I hope you don’t have
any. But I have told you what I would do in case you didn’t call for me.
I’d stay at some girls’ club. There are plenty of them in Rochester I’ve
read.”
“Well,” admitted Ned. “I suppose you ought to know what you want to do.”
“There’s the station,” exclaimed Nat. “What time did you say the train
left?”
“Eight-thirty,” replied Dorothy. “We have plenty of time.”
But when she realized that she was to be left alone, to go in a train to
that strange, big city, she felt as if she must cry out against the
circumstances that forced her to all this trouble. Why should she deceive
her two kind cousins, and desert them to take that risky journey alone?
And she did believe her prospective trip dangerous in spite of her
assertions to the contrary. It was very different to making the journey
to Glenwood when she had had Tavia with her.
Besides, going into the New England mountains was along a quiet way,
while this trip—she dared not trust herself to think further. She must
decide at once, and she must go—alone to look for Tavia.
“I’ll get you a Pullman ticket,” Ned said rather gloomily, as the auto
dashed up to the station, “but I do wish, Doro, that you would come on
with us. Of course, in the parlor car you will be quite safe, and can
rest better than in the Fire Bird. I’ll see the porter and have him look
after you.”
“Thank you, Ned,” Dorothy managed to reply, and, but for his haste to
make arrangements for her comfort, the youth would have seen tears in his
cousin’s eyes, and noticed that her hands trembled as Nat helped her out
of the machine to the station platform.
“I think, after all, it will be better for you to go straight on to North
Birchland,” she said, trying to make her voice sound easy and natural,
but conscious that her tones were rather unsteady. She was now putting
into operation the second part of her plan. “It might be risky to attempt
to pick me up in Rochester. I might miss you or you might miss me,
whereas if we both follow out our route separately we will be sure to get
to the Cedars in safety and without any delay.”
“Well, since you have decided to desert us, and travel by train, leaving
the poor old Fire Bird to struggle along as best it can without a lady
passenger, perhaps it will be best,” Nat agreed, in a dazed sort of way.
He seemed for a time quite unlike Nat White—quite different from the
youth who was always ready to take up the weak end of an argument and
carry it to the strongest point of conclusion. Here he was letting his
favorite cousin start away alone on a train to a strange big city, when
she had been entrusted to his care.
“Here you are, Doro,” called Ned, coming from the depot where he had
hurried as soon as the auto stopped. “Take this,” and he thrust some
bills into her hands, as well as her tickets. “And do, above everything
else, be careful. I’ve seen the porter, and tipped him so he will look
after you. Now, you’d better get in and we’ll leave you, as we want to
make good time. Good-bye,” and he stooped to kiss the pale-faced girl who
was now too overcome with emotion to trust her own voice.
Nat put his arm affectionately around her and he, too, gave her a
farewell kiss. They walked with her to the waiting train, and then the
porter, in his blue uniform, adorned with numerous brass buttons, helped
her aboard the car “Seneca.”